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The Justicar's Dog of War	By : Doirly_No Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 55026 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
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- 21
The sleep requirements of an asari, especially a matriarch, were different from those of a human. So, more often than not Samara would awake long before her pet and rarely did she leave the bed until Shepard’s eyes had opened. Her favorite way to spend a morning was meditating, reading or working while listening to the shallow breaths of slumber as they caressed whatever bit of skin the woman had her face pressed to.
That particular morning she was sifting through their entirely decrypted intel on a data pad. Her back prompt up by pillows and the wall, the only place to be clung to was below her midsection so that was precisely what Samara had arms wrapped around and a head resting upon. As often the case when she had a free hand within range the matriarch was stroking Shepard’s soft mop of hair. She could tell the naked woman would soon wake as she began to feel her hip being nuzzled and her thighs being squeezed a little tighter.
Within a few minutes the collared human pecked ancient, blue skin before rolling away to lazily stretch herself out. Though as soon as her back hit the mattress she noticeably flinched and continued on until she stopped on her belly. Her owner didn’t let the little move go unnoticed and went in pursuit. To her initially pleasant surprise she felt elegant fingers running down her spine, but they didn’t stop where she would have hoped. A digit drifted all the way down to brush her still sore sphincter which caused her to seize up again.
“Good morning, love,” Samara whispered before kissing a broad shoulder.
“Morning, ma’am,” Shepard replied stiffly because of a scraping nail.
“Is something wrong?” The elder asari pulled back to lie alongside her pet, head propped on a hand.
“No, I’m fine,” she answered, starting to get up and away.
The matriarch pressed a bit harder on the bruised area to keep the woman down. “Do not lie to me Shepard.”
“Really I’m…” her voice hitched when a finger threatened penetration. “My butt hurts.”
“Did you not enjoy the anal sex yesterday?” Samara’s hand slipped up to the small of the back.
“I did…”
“Shepard.”
“No, it hurt.” The woman clutched a pillow, avoiding eye contact.
“I thought so.” A blue hand tried to comfort with easy rubs.
“Why didn’t you stop then?” Shepard turned toward her owner with a hurt look.
“You were supposed to say something.”
“So it’s my fault,” the woman said disheartened.
“I have told you a number of times to tell me when we are doing something you do not like, especially if it hurts you.”
Shepard’s gaze went to the wall in front of her as she bemoaned, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Samara retracted her hand as she recognized a certain tone. “How long are you going to pout?”
“Depends,” the woman peeked over her shoulder. “How guilty do you feel?”
With a roll of the eyes, “How can I make it up to you?”
“Well, to start...” Shepard popped up to her elbows.
“To start?” Samara asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I guess if you don’t want to you don’t have to,” she sulked and sank.
“Alright,” the matriarch sighed. “However, if something like this happens again, you will be punished. Now, what do you want?”
“You can start by making my bum feel better,” a perkier Shepard said with a wiggle of her ailing body part.
Chuckling Samara said, “Come on.”
The matriarch slipped from the bed, her pet swiftly falling in behind her with a more bowlegged gate than usual. Knowing exactly where Shepard’s eyes would be Samara decided to add a little extra sway to her bare hips on the way to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. There was a full first aid kit on the second deck and a secondary one by the bed, but they only needed what was over the sink for this issue. That many medical stations necessary for a pair that got shot at, blown up and generally assaulted as often as they did.
The treatment she’d be receiving obvious, Shepard bent over the counter with her legs spread a shoulder’s width apart. Though, she apparently didn’t get low enough because Samara pushed her down until her chest and cheek pressed against the cold surface next to the sink, sending a slight tingle through her body. She only had to wait a few seconds with her fanny in the air before it got some attention. A series of kisses starting at the dimple just above her left buttock trailed down over the swell of her rump, ending with a playful bite.
“Spread,” Samara ordered as she stood.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The only reason for the asari to straighten up was to try to catch a glimpse of the marine blushing which could just barely be seen over one of the woman’s shoulders. Samara prayed Shepard would never stop getting embarrassed around her, it was just too cute. The revelry only last a moment as her focus soon shifted down to the bigger set of cheeks the woman was prying apart. She sank back down to start the healing process with a loving little smooch to the wounded area, which got a happy sigh from the soldier. Then she took up the pressurized bottle of medicine and gave it a spray.
“Stay as you are for a few minutes, though you can move your hands,” Samara said with a pat on the butt. “Now, what is your next demand?”
“I would never go so far as demand anything of you, ma’am,” not entirely sincere, but still respectful.
“Of course,” the matriarch responded skeptically. “What is your next request?”
“Hmmm,” as Shepard pondered her rear absentmindedly swayed. “I believe I would like a bath.”
Samara went straight to the control panel to manufacture a tub from reusable plastics. Steaming water filling the basin from below once it had fully formed. The matriarch then gathered soap, shampoo, salts and a luffa as her pet waited bent at the waist over the counter, head cradled by strong arms. The leering gaze following her every move was as predictable as it was concentrated which she humored by reaching a little further than necessary to stir up the bath’s fragrance and foam, flashing her purple lips.
Once all was ready Samara stepped into the tub and summoned, “Come.”
It didn’t take a second before Shepard popped up to prance over to follow the matriarch into the luxurious, bath water. Even though it was her wishes being fulfilled the subservient woman still had respects to pay. As soon as she knelt before her blue goddess she leaned forward to plant an adoring embrace to the azure she treasured. Samara promptly sat, legs stretched out to either side of her and then she was pulled in by her collar to kiss the asari’s other set of lips.
When allowed, Shepard pulled away and she reached for the toiletries set near the tub, but a soft slap to the wrist stopped her. The digits on her collar didn’t leave until her head was pulled lower, then they cupped and disappeared into the layer of foam. Her smile could grow no bigger as she felt warmth being poured over her followed by something cool touching the back of her scalp. Soon after, fingers began to weave magic through her hair; the only way to make the moment any better was if Samara hadn’t added bubbles to the bath and she could see what lay below the waterline or if not that raise her face enough to get the matriarch’s plentiful, blue assets into her field of view.
It took only a couple scrubs to get the easily aroused woman to start happily humming. Having only ever watched hair being cleaned, Samara wasn’t entirely confident in what she was doing, but also doubted it was something one could easily fail at. As she worked the shampoo into a lather the matriarch pondered why she had never done it before, considering how much she simply loved combing, stroking or petting the locks. She already had a better understanding why her human enjoyed washing her so much.
Once her task complete Samara again scooped up bath water to dump over her pet’s head. As soon as all the suds from Shepard’s hair joined those on the surface below the woman violently whipped her neck back launching a liquid arch in the air and directly into the asari’s face causing her to recoil, sputtering. She recovered quickly enough to catch the woman giggling at her which she silenced with a stern glare, though it was obvious the laughter continued behind pursed lips.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Shepard snorted.
The ancient asari gave a skeptical, sideways glance before giving a light shove to get the human’s back against the end of the tub. Thinking it improper to make any appearances of being in the lap of her pet, Samara repositioned them both so her thighs were the ones underneath then scooted their hips closer together. She blindly reached to the floor to retrieve the luffa not wanting to tear her eyes from the alluring sight of a wet, reclining Shepard; arms crossed behind her slightly tilted head and the water reaching to just above her navel.
“Now, let us test how good of a memory you possess,” Samara said as she soaped her pet’s chest. “What are these?”
With the silky luffa embracing her right breast a squirming Shepard answered, “Your tits.”
The sponge slid down immaculately defined abs and under the layer of bubbles. “And this?”
The woman jerked her hips into the hand pressed between her legs, “Your cunt.”
A little lower and Samara asked, “And this.”
“Your ass,” the human hissed as the pair of fingers dug deeper.
“Mmmm, very good,” the matriarch moaned leaning forward, but when she felt fingers touch her crest added, “Sit on your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Shepard nearly protested, bringing up the fact she should be getting spoiled, but thought better of it when violet lips closed on her nipple.
Even as Samara feasted on a delicious breast she did not forget her appointed task and continued running the soapy sponge over the harden skin of her warrior love. She sucked the tip deeply, greedily trying to take the entire mammary into her mouth and when it could go no further she’d gently chew as if she literally wished to nourish herself on human flesh. At the same time her hand rubbed along Shepard’s leg above and below the water from knee to hip.
The former commander faintly noticed the work being done to clean her leg. All the mattered was what her glorious, blue goddess was doing to her bosom. She desperately wished to return the affection, but without the use of her hands she strained to think of a way. When the sponge shifted to her inner thigh Samara’s crest also grew close enough to reach with her lips, so she began pecking at the fronds. This did not go unnoticed by the matriarch, but did not give the reaction she’d have hoped for and pulled away. Sitting on her palms made it impossible to follow.
The superior of the two stayed teasingly still at a tantalizing distance for only a few seconds before producing the luffa and squeezing all its held water onto the submissive woman’s diaphragm. After a quick scrub of Shepard’s belly and ribs Samara transferred the sponge to her opposite hand to repeat the process for the other leg, including the feeding. After a nip to the nipple her lips captured the teat, this time remaining low enough to be out of reach. So her pet could do nothing but watch and endure her chest being devoured.
The scrubbing didn’t take long and before Shepard could really surrender to the sensations inflicted upon her breast they ended with a bite and a flick. Samara hooked the human’s heels to pull up in front of her, happy that her pet straightened her knees so the shapely legs rose from the foam like a pair of bound planks. The backs of the thighs braced against the insides of her own to prevent the woman from slipping and allow her to continue washing her property’s feet, calves and shins.
Shepard though, wasn’t a fan of their current pose. The only blue she could see were the hands rubbing her legs and a bit of arm; plus the water buffered any possible contact they could share. Still, she had little to complain about. There was only so much time to take cleaning and all too soon her legs were dropped. With uncanny grace Samara was able to give a tug and slipped around behind her.
“So, what is next?” the matriarch asked as she began washing her pet’s back.
“Let me think.” Shepard slowly considered, enjoying the hands rubbing her shoulders for several minutes before suddenly exclaiming, “I know! I’ll be in the kitchen!”
Apparently bath time was over as the dripping woman immediately hopped out. She mashed the control panel to summon a stream of hot air that quickly dried her and then darted out of the room. A befuddled Samara was left in her wake, who simply laughed heartily and sunk back into the water to give her body a rinse before putting the tub away.
After using the automatic drying feature herself, the curious matriarch ventured out to the den and as she reached for a robe she heard, “Wait, I have something for you to wear, ma’am.”
“Oh?” Samara turned to see the woman, now dressed in black, cotton shorts and simple, white chemise, holding up a single article of clothing. “Is that an apron?”
“Yeah, would you mind making breakfast wearing only this?” Shepard asked with an exaggerated smile.
The matriarch didn’t understand what odd sort of human kink she was about to participate in, but saw no harm so answered, “Very well. What should I make?”
She excitedly responded, “Steak and eggs.”
Samara slipped the white garment bordered with frills and adorned with a sunflower over her head then tied the string around her waist. Of course her bottom was on full display, but she also noted much of her bust could be seen from the sides. Later she’d have to find out what the allure was. At the moment though she had some cooking to do and proceeded to the first locker in the hallway; there wasn’t enough space for them to keep food in the kitchen . Though not putting effort into it she still gave a bit of a show digging up and putting each ingredient on the short length of counter between the closet and the stove.
At the complete opposite end of the room Shepard moved a chair around, so she technically sat in the den, to give her the best vantage of the cooking asari. Elbow on the table she rested her chin in her hand to dreamily watch the mostly nude alien prepare her breakfast. Her grin could get no dopier when Samara had to reach to the top shelf over the stove to retrieve the salt, stretching the mature, blue body she worshiped out so perfectly. Part of her wanted to crawl across the floor and kneel at the altar to pay her respects to that sublime tush.
As Samara went for the plates in the lower cabinets across from the table, which were shallower than the ones by the stove to accommodate the sitting area, she caught a glimpse of the goofy look on her pet’s face. To play along, she stood up in a rather awkward fashion; first straightening her legs then her back a couple needless seconds later with her rear pointed squarely at Shepard. All that was left after that was dishing up the two meals before taking a seat on the bench flush against the wall. The human quickly moving to the chair opposite her.
“Smells great,” Shepard gave the customary compliment sincerely.
“Thank you.” Samara nodded before swiftly asking, “Are you happy now?”
“Quite,” she answered as she took up her knife and fork.
“Then I guess you need no more cheering up.” The asari then demurely took a bite of eggs.
“Oh, no,” the woman sputtered, catching on to the implications she depressed her tone, “I’m still…”
“Too late.”
“Crap.”
“We have more serious matters to discuss anyway.” Samara transferred a file to the infiltrator’s omni-tool. “It turns out the decrypted files not only had a list of targets to be eliminated, but also had details on their progress and chances of success. I have spent much of the morning notifying those in danger as well as the proper authorities. However, I could not contact nor locate a few of the targets...”
Shepard continued listening to the Justicar’s assessment as she ate and read through names. Most of them she at least faintly recalled, though one she couldn’t quite place nagged at her; Felicia Hannigan. A number of Spectres were on the list, unsurprisingly many of them could not be so quickly contacted, including Ashley, not that there need be much concern for any of them. Whoever this latest nefarious organization was they seemed rather inept. They were running missions against every target at once while succeeding at few. Still, several of the targets were completely defenseless, such as…
“Kelly!” Shepard exclaimed.
“Yeoman Chambers?”
“Kelly changed her name to Felicia Hannigan after Cerberus’s attack on the Citadel during the war.” The concerned, former commander brought up the details on her former subordinate. “She’s in danger. This says they’ve located her on a station called The Azure Sky. We have to save her! It is only a matter of time before they get to her.”
“Perhaps not.” Samara more calmly scanned the information. “Our enemy seems to be an entirely human syndicate which will make it extremely difficult for them to infiltrate this particular station.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Azure Sky is an asari station, though we do not refer to it by that name. Its true name is impossible to translate since it references the believed afterlife of a religion that is no longer practiced.”
Shepard’s concerns eased. “Why call it The Azure Sky then?”
“Well.” The matriarch paused to find a way to explain, “You know what azure refers to.”
“Asari pussy,” the human said bluntly.
When Samara was done shaking her head she continued, “And there is nothing above the sky.”
“So, asari pussy is above all else? What kind of place is this?”
“It is an adult-oriented resort that only asari and their bondmates may enter. So you can see why it would be hard for an entirely human group to operate there.”
“We still need to save her.” Shepard was so concerned she didn’t even notice the mention of ‘an adult-oriented resort’.
“We will.” Samara tried to soothe, “I will set course right away. Still, there is no reason to be concerned. The intel says they do not have an operative on the station and it will take quite some time for them to do so. So take a deep breath and eat your breakfast.”
Shepard did as she was told, “Yes, ma’am.”
The matriarch watched the first mouthful of eggs being swallowed before she turned on her omni-tool to command the ship to the new destination. Nerves didn’t go down as easily as the food and the human continued to fret about her friend. So silently the pair of vigilantes ate, any sense of fun lost. The woman wolfed down her meal like she would have in the service then out of habit and obedience brought her plate to the sink. Seeing the continued despair, the superior of the two decided she had to demonstrate how truly unconcerned they both should be.
“Shepard,” Samara called. “I have not finished my meal.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Shepard robotically replied.
“Come entertain me while I finish,” she ordered, spreading her legs, angling them out from under the table.
A small smile crept across the woman’s lips as she sunk to her knees and joked, “You always know just what to say.”
“Everything will be alright,” Samara consoled as her hand grasped the back of her pet’s head.
- 19
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The Justicar's Dog of War